Aria Quill knew things were going too well. The captain of famed idol resistance group Hello Daydream knew to keep her superstitions in check, not wanting the other members to catch onto her hesitation and uncertainty. Dakota Bloom, a fellow peppy idol, noticed her nerves and tried to calm the captain down, but that didn’t stop Aria’s nerves from firing off.
Every concert was a risk. It wasn’t always. In years past, idolatry was a way to bring joy and smiles to people, transcending language.  An important mission, if a simple one. But after the empire began cracking down on resistance, idols took on a different role — and one more vital: keeping hope, love, and passion alive. All things that went against the empire, as they began to target any form of media that didn’t fit in with their twisted morality. Art and entertainment that conformed to the tight standards was cold, bland, lifeless. Idols were meant to sing of things that blatantly went against the regime— so, idols were the first to be targeted.
All members of Hello Daydream — the leader Aria Quill, Dakota Bloom, Ember Glow, Kyra Stardust, and Luna Vesper — learned to fight back. Those who had gave up their very name to become an idol now prepared for the possibility of giving up their very lives.
 They learned ground combat, how to use various weapons, and how to pilot and fight within a mecha suit. None of them wanted to put their lives on the line, but their song and dance were the thin strands holding people’s heads high. And they learned to continue bringing their concerts as they fought and protected their friends and audiences.
They needed their machinery to match up with the empire’s. Miraculously, for a while, their mechas consistently outpaced and even took down some imperial technology. The work of their most dedicated fans, obviously.
For the most part, staying hopeful was easy. But things got worse. Kidnappings happened. Rumors spread. Hope began to fade away even in the most passionate of idols and fans. Memorabilia was burnt. Groups disbanded.
Hello Daydream stood, bringing the spirit revolution in one concert filled to the brim with energy. But each concert had more backlash. More times they’d narrowly escape the clutches of the empire. More near-death experiences than Aria was comfortable with.
Aria tried to tell herself over and over that this was just another concert. Their job was to perform. Nothing was going to stop them.
And yet, the stark metal walls imprisoning Aria spoke of a different reality.
Aria refused to look the soldiers in the eyes. The few times she was forced to acknowledge anyone, she still smiled. Not out of kindness, or sympathy, but out of sheer defiance. They could take her freedom and lock her in shackles, but they couldn’t take her smile. It was an idol’s job — her holy duty.
But one day, even her smile was taken away from her. 
Over the weeks, her teammates had faced torture and verbal abuse. Aria always found it weird that she was left alone. They’d all fought back, but the wait for any potential rescue crew diminished. And just as things couldn’t get much worse, one night — who knew the exact hour — a sudden loud voice startled all of them out of their light sleep.
“Oi, I need some stress relief! Bend over, now!”
Came the voice of some maintenance woman. Aria didn’t know or care who she was. But what happened next was a whole different kind of sickening.
Dakota, known for her feistiness and inability to give up, fought back. Then Aria heard the click of a key locking. Metal shackling around metal. Aria could only guess what was going on. Her worst fears came true.
Then she heard Dakota’s fighting cries turn to pleas of mercy.  “Stop!! Stop, it hurts!! Please stop!!” Came her chilling sobs, echoing through the halls of the jailing facility. The screams went on in similar fashion for… Aria didn’t know how long. If it was a few seconds, her terror and grief made it feel like an eternity.
And then Dakota screamed something that truly shook Aria to her core.
“N-no! Not inside!! You’re going to get me–!! Noooooo!!”
Aria had to hold back vomit. They were going to impregnate her idol team member? Her friend? They were going to use her as a vessel?! Aria felt vibrant rage, then devastating.
After way too long, it stopped. The maintenance woman huffed as if she was inconvenienced in some way. “That’s some tight hole you have there. I never knew what idol pussy felt like, but it was so much better than I ever could dream!” And then she walked away as if all that happened was a pleasant conversation. The halls felt much more silent than they had before. She hadn’t even bothered to unshackle Dakota.
The worst part was, Aria knew why Dakota was targeted.
Aria had been commanded to stop humming her songs multiple times. Dakota was subjected to rape. She was subjected to rape, and potential impregnation, all to intimidate Aria. To stop her from singing.
Aria’s gut churned. After Dakota’s sobs stopped as she cried herself to sleep, Aria finally broke. She openly wept for the first time since her kidnapping. She hadn’t sung or even hummed anything since.
~~
Aria wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Memories of how she’d reached the top of idol fame flew through her mind, memories that hardly mattered anymore. She heard less and less of her teammates. Had they been moved? Or silenced in some way? She felt like she’d know if they were gone, but… but she couldn’t tell. The days became indistinguishable from one another. Aria prayed for her friends to come back. For the resistance to save them.
One night, Aria was jolted awake by belligerent shouting.
”Hey, get up!” the gruff voice of some soldier, “She requests your presence.”
Aria didn’t know who ‘She’ was supposed to be, but she obeyed. Aria stood. Aria didn’t smile. Aria just nodded once, and did as she was told.
As she was led out of her cell, Aria looked towards the other jailing cells. She didn’t see any of Hello Daydream. Maybe they were hiding out of sight? Maybe they were moved to other cells. Aria didn’t want to think of any other, worse scenarios. She tried not to. 
She and the guard walked in silence for a long, long time. Aria didn’t know where she was being led. It didn’t particularly matter.
Aria felt nothing inside. The rage had dissipated long ago, replaced with exhausting depression. She wanted this to be over. She wanted so desperately for this to be a nightmare. But she knew those hopes would only lead to despair. So she refused to indulge them. It was all she could do to protect her heart.
Eventually, the soldier stopped by a door. One that looked far more imposing and threatening than any other they'd walk past. The soldier stood at the door's entrance, almost like she was inviting Aria inside. But the door remained closed. Aria stared at it, her eyes lifeless. Any flash of the brilliance that once shined in her eyes was gone. Eventually, the door opened on its own. The metal slid, making a sound that made Aria feel as if her ears were about to explode. Her eyes shut tight. The millisecond the noise ended, the soldier barked an order — “Go!” and butted Aria's figure with the bottom of her massive military-grade rifle.
“Ah—” Aria couldn't help but tumble forward. Weeks of not practicing completely destroyed her previously impeccable sense of balance. By the time she spun around, the door was already closed, the same metal shrieking paining Aria once again.
With nowhere else to turn, her eyes moved opposite of the door. When Aria's eyes locked with the stoic woman sitting in the chair at the other end of the room, her heart stopped.
She'd seen a lot of lowly soldiers going at hand to hand combat with idols, both Aria's and other groups. But she knew what outfit depicted one of a higher rank. This woman, judging on the color and sleekness of her jet black cloak, covering her dark cerulean pantsuit and all of the metals decorating it. She sat in a massive chair, almost a throne in image and imposition. Her desk was immaculate, not a single speck of dust visible. In front of her sat a singular small packet of paper. If Aria had known less about these elite military fuckers, she would assume this was a new office. But no, the lack of decoration and high level of cleanliness made Aria sure that this room had been well-used to commit a variety of war crimes and/or torture. The lack of any evidence somehow made the room's sinister history that much more threatening. The table was topped with a black cloth. If there was anything stored under the desk or even a small trash can, or her newest victim, a cloth that thick would have hid it with ease.
Her hair was streaked with a few gray strands, but they seemed to be dyed platinum white. The rest of her hair was a deep black, put up into a tight bun, held together by two sharp sticks that well should have stabbed her when she put them in her hair.
And then there was the malicious lady sitting in the chair, now meeting Aria's eyes directly. Their eyes were a mirror of molten lava and Antarctic ice. To Aria's fierce — if a tad exhausted — sense of justice, this lady's eyes were pure ice. Aria didn't think she was terrible at reading people, but Aria couldn't suss out a single emotion or feeling from this woman's expression, her posture, or her lack of mannerisms. But she knew what this woman had done. She knew who she was.
The calculating, cold lady in front of her was a Handler. 
Aria had only heard of Handlers through rumor and gossip. She'd doubted these evil, controlling women actually existed. She wanted to believe that was a lie – no one would truly brainwash someone to the point of eradicating their personality in full. But here, Aria was proven wrong once again.
“Aria Quill,” she stated simply. Her tone did not indicate a verification of identity and it especially didn't indicate a sense of greeting nor friendliness. She was almost reading from a particularly dry report.  “I welcome you. Sit.”
Aria knew she was not asking, but commanding Aria. That made her that much more ready to resist and fight back. A small flame of rebellion lit in her, and Aria replied as she clenched her fists tight.
“I'm okay standing,” she stated simply. “I'm an idol. I've danced for 12 hours just fine. All I’ve been doing has been sitting, anyways.”
Aria wanted to see some semblance of emotion in response. Rage, or doubling down on her commands would have been particularly satisfying. A smile would have pissed Aria off, but it would have been something. But no. Her face didn't change. She didn't shift in her position. It was as if Aria had said nothing at all; as if she was addressing a rock.
“Aria Quill. Leader of the illegal idol group, Hello Daydream. Spreading propaganda to the masses, cloaking it under the guise of inspiring flimsy concepts such as 'joy' or 'rebellion'. Hosting silly 'concerts' that—”
“They're not flimsy concepts!” Aria exploded, as the small flame within her suddenly lit up to the level of a devastating forest fire. It was as if a dial cranked up from 1 to 100 in a second. “Our concerts are the reason some people still smile! Idols are the reason many people under your authoritarian regime smile, fall in love, and feel hope for a better future — a future not living under the empire's iron hands!”
Aria suddenly noticed she was shaking. As much as she wanted to believe she was sounding inspiring or convinced of her own words, the Handler was getting under Aria's skin. And she'd only been in front of Aria for less than a minute.
Aria took some deep inhales and calmed down. Even in the midst of Aria's outburst, the Handler didn't emote. She didn't react. Aria wanted to scream at her, to lunge at her and strangle her and inevitably make herself a martyr for the resistance... but she'd just be working herself up. She clearly wasn't getting through to this woman.
She breathed, and listened, as much as it killed her inside.
The Handler continued. “There. Being quiet and listening feels much better. Doesn't it?”
Aria blinked and inhaled sharply. It was almost as if the Handler could read her mind. She couldn’t… could she? Even Aria didn't notice that screaming felt worse than simply hearing her out...
“What did you want to talk to me about?“ The question was simple and to the point. Better yet, it cloaked all of Aria's fiery emotions and her ideology of resistance and rebellion, and her own uncertainty of her confusion.
“I didn't bring you in here to talk, Aria Quill — or, Ariri, as some of your fans call you. I wanted to show you something.”
Aria raised an eyebrow. What was she going to show Aria? Was it some kind of BS propaganda? Some poor attempt to brainwash Aria? And what the fuck was this imperial asshole doing calling Aria 'Ariri', a name gifted to her by her devoted fans? She thought she didn't mind who called her that, but now she minded.
“Okay,” Aria said cautiously, “What did you want to show me?”
“After you sit.”
Aria sighed. There was no getting out of this. Aria walked up, closer to the Handler’s desk, and hesitantly sat in the chair. She half-expected some handcuffs to appear from the bottoms of the arm rests, and was more than a little surprised when nothing of the sort happened.
“Kittens,” the Handler tapped a finger to her ear, pressing some kind of button on a small headphone. That single word sent a shiver down Aria's spine. “We are ready. You may enter.”
“Yes, Handler!” Came a haunting chorus of familiar voices. The door opened, and Aria's worst nightmares came true.
The door behind the Handler opened, and in walked none other than the other four members of Hello Daydream. All of them were... them, for sure. But they looked almost entirely different.
The most notable feature by far were their muzzles. Thick leather straps around metal bars. The muzzles were topped with a bright pink dot, strands protruding from each side emulating whiskers. On top of their heads were cat ears, the kind one would find in shitty pornography or at the cheapest costume store in town. 
Perhaps most disturbing of all was what Aria could barely see through the muzzles.
They were smiling. Those weren't the smiles Aria came to know and love through the years of singing and dancing together. They were empty, mindless, brainless. Those smiles were ordered, etched into their brains with a branding iron. They weren't natural.
Not to mention their outfits. Idol clothes weren't known for being particularly modest, no, but the costumes were compared more to decorative lingerie. The 'dress' piece covered none of their backside, all of their stomachs were exposed —was Dakota's being a bit rounder than before her assault? That thought made Aria ready to throw up. Luna's body had words such as 'slut' and 'whore' written all over in permanent marker. She would have never let that be done to her, or even be said to her. The bras were seductive, something one would find on models at a strip show. There was nothing wrong with the outfits. If they wanted to wear clothes like that, then... of course Aria would be all for it. But this was a sick and twisted perversion of the outfits they'd worn for so long with pride. The color scheme and patterns even mocked the original uniforms of their most famous song. 
“G-girls?” Aria stood up in horror. Her whole body shook violently. With fear? Fury? Disgust? Terror? All of it. All of it was too much. Aria's head snapped back to the Handler, giving her the coldest death glare she could. “What the… what the fuck did you do to them?!”
“Nothing to hurt them,” the Handler spoke in her tone lacking in intonations. “They’re all happy and free, can’t you see it right in front of you?”
“Fuck that!” Aria shrieked. “You hurt them! You changed them! Those aren’t the girls I sang and danced with! They’re… they’re just puppets!”
To that, Handler turned back to the brainwashed idols. “Girls, are you happy?”
“Yes, Handler!” They answered all together. Even their response was as refined as a military march. Still, there was no light in any of their eyes. They might as well have been sleepwalking.
“Do you want to be free?”
A series of gasps and immediate protests broke out. “No!” “Please don’t get rid of us, Handler!” “We want to be here forever!” “W-what do we need to do to stay here?!”
The Handler didn’t answer them. She just simply turned back to Aria, allowing the girls to calm down as soon as they realized they weren’t being released. “You say these aren’t the girls you sang and danced with. Is that right?”
“O-of course they’re not!”
The Handler hummed – the first close-to-human sound she made since their meeting. “I’d like to prove you wrong. Girls, is your dance ready?”
The idols all perked up, all of the worry and anxiety seeping away. “Of course, Handler!”
The Handler nodded simply. She pulled from her desk’s drawer a digital tablet – high technical for sure, but nothing extravagant or flashy.  “I wanted to preserve how beautiful you girls are.” Aria felt a flare of fury rush through her. “How angelic your voices are.” She felt ready to punch the Handler. She had to stop herself from doing so. “You’ve trained them so well, they just needed a little more discipline.”
“Fuck you!” Aria spat, no longer able to keep her anger in check. Once again, the Handler didn’t respond emotionally. Aria felt her skin was about to explode from rage.
Music started playing. Aria instantly recognized the melody from years of 12 hour practice days, concerts small and large where they sang perfectly while firing off missiles, and even just fun group karaoke sessions. Their biggest hit, drawing screams from quiet audiences – Hi There, Hello! Aria had to suppress the urge to sing the tune and dance along, but she couldn’t stop herself from tapping to the beat like a metronome. 
The song and dance started similarly, both unchanged at first.
Things took a drastic turn when the line “I can’t wait to meet you!” was sung as “I can’t wait to serve you!”
Through the song, the previously innocent lyrics were manipulated into subservient propaganda for the empire. That was bad enough, but the lyrics also grew increasingly sexual. Aria knew that sometimes, idols could be sexy! But the fantasies spouting from her former teammates’ singing mouths was… horrible. Luna sang about making women squirt. Dakota sang about being a vessel for their children, bearing entire factions to come. Ember sang of beating down the resistance, turning them into mindless, happy sex slaves as well. Kyra’s singing was laden with sensual moans.
Then the dance changed, too. Where Kyra and Luna were to switch places in the routine, Kyra took Luna in her arms, lifted their muzzles and passionately made out. Luna resisted for a second before falling into the makeout session. Ember fell to her knees as Dakota pulled away her undergarments, and Ember ate her out with vigor and a need that Aria had never witnessed before.
Aria stepped back. No. This couldn’t be happening. They weren’t even singing. Eventually, all of them just laid on the floor, fucking each other like cats in severe heat. “No… no, this… can’t…” She didn’t even notice the tears streaming down her face. It was a car crash. She couldn’t pull her eyes off of them – not because she was amazed or proud. She was horrified at what the Handler had done. And how she even was able to turn these talented idols into sex machines meant to spread propaganda.
As the song ended, a series of orgasmic moans came from the corrupted idols as their bodies shook and fell to the ground. Even after they orgasmed, they all continued touching themselves.
Then, just like clockwork, they all stood up, as if ready for their next song. Their poor excuse for costumes were torn and their hair was disheveled. But… they were still eager to dance. No. Eager to serve. To obey.
“I have to say these girls have been wonderful for the crew. They sing and dance for tired soldiers, but they also readily offer their bodies after to serve us further. Dakota is even carrying her now-Mistress’ children, and I’m sure she’ll be a wonderful mother.”
Aria felt broken. She collapsed into the chair. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was this was death felt like? If Aria was in hell, she wouldn’t be surprised.
“They’re not quite complete, though,” the Handler continued dangerously. “They still need their Captain. Right?”
“Yes, Handler! Please join us, Captain!”
The four girls all bowed in pleading. Not to the Handler. To Aria.
For Aria, it was the last straw.
“I,” Aria seethed, “am never going to join you. I am never going to become the kind of machine you’ve made out of my friends! I am getting out of here! I am going to bring smiles to the people! I am taking my friends with me! You are going down! I will die before I give up!”
The Handler, once again, didn’t respond. Instead, it was Dakota who responded, as she gently caressed her stomach.
“Captain, can’t you see how great this is? People love us! The soldiers need smiles too!”
“Yeah!” Ember added eagerly, drool sliding from the corner of her mouth. “It’s so much more fulfilling to serve the soldiers! But like, we need you here too, Captain! So please just submit to Handler!”
“No!” Aria screamed. “Wake up! As your Captain, I am ordering you to snap out of it! I… I need you guys back! You can’t listen to this imperial rat over me!”
The looks on her former friends’ faces changed completely. Luna walked up, her face seething the brightest.
SLAP
Her hand slapping across Aria’s face didn’t register for a few seconds. More tears streamed from her eyes, multiple from the side that was slapped. 
“Don’t you dare talk about Handler like that! Show some respect, Captain!”
“Yeah!” Kyra added. “Apologize to Handler, now!”
“Never!” Aria shook her head, more tears flailing from her face. “Never! I will never give up! Wake up! Wake… up…”
The futility of the situation finally hit Aria. They weren’t going to listen. The idols were so brainwashed, they might as well have had spirals in their eyes. Aria wasn’t going to get through to them. The only thing she could do was stare blankly and cry as her protests grew silent.
She fell back into the seat. Her reverie was cut short by a long, annoyed exhale from the Handler. Annoyed. Was this what finally pissed her off enough? Heh, maybe Aria should do a bit more of it. That is, until she escaped.
“That’s unfortunate,” the Handler spoke.
“Cry about it,” Aria snarked back.
For the second time, the Handler emoted. Rage sparked in her eyes. And yet, she still spoke in that infuriating monotone.
“Very well. I wanted to do this the easy way. But I see that isn’t possible now. Kittens, you remember my orders, don’t you?”
“Yes, Handler!”
“At it,” she said, and then sent two words that cut through the rest of Hello Daydreams’ personality–
“Collar off.”
The idols flew to Aria with the speed and agility unknown before. Aria attempted to stand up before, but she was too late. The chair didn’t need handcuffs. Luna’s slender hands that defied expectations of strength held Aria down well enough. Aria attempted to kick her off, but Ember knelt under the chair and held Aria’s ankles with the same visceral grip. Aria continued to struggle in vain as Luna gripped her waist from behind, unashamed to feel Aria up and cup her breasts, flicking at her nipples through her shirt.
“No! No! Guys! Stop!” Aria shook her head – the last free part of her body – in an attempt to shake her fellow members get off of her.
Through her shut eyes and tears blurring her eyesight. She saw the Handler. In fact, the Handler was the only thing she saw. She was the last thing that made sense in this hellhole.
No. No. She had to fight.
Dakota got on her knees in front of Aria. Her mouth was already quivering in ecstasy. Oh no. Aria instantly understood where this was going. “D-Dakota… the Dakota I knew would never demean herself like this… p-please, I know you’re in there–”
Dakota didn’t hear Aria. Or if she did, her pleas went ignored. She slid down Aria’s panties. Aria tried to keep her legs shut, preventing Dakota from going in any further, but her and Ember’s expertful, silent teamwork made her keep her legs wide open to violation. Dakota looked starving. Like a kitten who hadn’t been fed over a weekend. And then her mouth reached Aria’s pussy, her tongue circling Aria’s tiny, cute clit with a vigor and sensuality she’d never have expected from Dakota.
Aria continued pleading for it to stop. Worse yet, she couldn’t deny how wet she was. She wouldn’t have noticed but – when the fuck did she get turned on? How could she be turned on by… by this nightmare?! It made no sense, and she was speeding to an orgasm of her own. Dakota would slow down, only to speed back up, repeatedly. The edging only made her brain melt further. Aria’s pleas grew quiet, her moans overtaking any comprehensible words. Her struggling stopped. She twitched like a worm and continued shaking her head. She no longer protested. The fire in her heart was doused, overwhelmed by arousal, despair, and humiliation. 
She suddenly felt hands touching her. The Handler’s. Aria was angry, not with the Handler anymore, but with herself, for failing her friends. Letting them become depraved, sex-obsessed toys of the empire. She failed. And worse, she was enjoying it.
“Hold her head still,” the Handler said, as she took her deathly sticks out of her hair, letting her long, wavy hair drop to her side.
Aria gasped in shock. No, she wouldn’t. Her pleas for sexual mercy turned to fast begging for her life, intertwined with hyperventilation.
“I wanted to do this the easy way,” the Handler said casually as Ember’s hands lifted to hold her head in place. “You had the chance to get this done the easy way. Everyone else did so. But you refused. You knew it was hopeless, and you refused. Do you regret it, Aria Quill?”
Aria couldn’t respond. She was too busy crying, begging, and struggling.
The Handler tapped the sharp ends to Aria’s skull. “Please!” Aria screamed. “Please, you don’t have to do this–”
And then the worst happened. Both needles stabbed into Aria’s head, through her skull and all the surrounding veins and muscles. The needles tapped her brain as Aria shrieked until her voice was gone, and then shrieked some more. It hurt more than anything Aria knew. It was too much. She couldn’t bear it. She didn’t even think about resisting anymore. She couldn’t. It was neurologically impossible.
“The captain of this idol group will make a fine Hound,” the Handler talked slowly with the same monotone, the tone of someone truly deprived of empathy or shame. The needles went deeper.
“I feel everything! I feel everything! Stop! STOP!”
The Handler kept talking as she began to rearrange Aria’s brain. Whether or not she knew what she was doing with Aria’s brain didn’t matter. She was adept at torture and war crimes. That was enough.
“It will all feel better. Then you will be my Hound. After a lot of training, that is.”
She kept screaming. Nothing made sense. Who could be this cruel? What excuse for a person could?
“Say goodbye to yourself, Aria Quill.”
And then she heard drilling. The needles drilled into her skull. Whatever sounds her ears would have protected her from was fully heard. Just when she was about to burst, she felt her lower body explode with orgasm. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her brain was much easier for the Handler to manipulate.
    And that was it.
    Aria passed out, or went into some kind of trance. She felt the needles come out, but the pain continued. Soon enough, she felt her wounds being bandaged tightly by the Handler. It was oddly affectionate, and She was all Aria could comprehend. Nothing else mattered. The Handler showed her, a mere idol, who was so rude and defiant to Her, kindness.
Aria muttered a few words that betrayed her very being – “Thank you, Handler.” The last of Aria was gone, leaving the Handler with a blank slate to work with.
She didn’t know what she’d become. But that was okay. Her Handler knew. That was enough for her. Through unconsciousness, through the pain of her improvised lobotomy, an oddly peaceful smile fell on her face as her breath returned to normal.
“Oh, my mutt,” the Handler cooed with love Aria previously thought was impossible of Her. “How you’ll make a fine Hound for Me.”